When Fortune Fails
by Tesekian
Summary: Sequel to Fortune's Blade. Sal is accused of treason when King Elessar is attacked. FINISHED!!!
1. In the Cells Once More

Author's note: This is a sequel to Fortune's Blade, but you don't have to have read that one to understand this. I'll give you some basic info from that story so you'll know what's going on, without giving away the storyline in case you decide to read Fortune's Blade later.  
  
It's set after the War of the Ring, and this story is a few years after Fortune's Blade so it's now about ten years since Sauron was defeated.  
  
King Elessar gave Salafir a sword called fortune, and a silver broach shaped like a tree. The broach is given to people who do something really important for Gondor or the king.  
  
That's about it, if there's anything else I'll let you know later.  
  
***  
  
The two occupants of the small cell sat in silence. There wasn't anything to say. Sal and Bergil both sat, staring at the floor, chains around their wrists and ankles. Sal's thoughts were of the previous time he had been like this, but there was no hope this time. Why should he expect Elessar to forgive him, when he had freely proclaimed himself a traitor?  
  
The silence might have lasted minutes or hours, neither could tell. Finally the door opened and Ralisay came in.  
  
"The king is awake and sends for you," he said to Sal. Sal stood and walked to the door.  
  
"Fortune be with you," Bergil muttered as he passed. Sal sighed. He had lost fortune, both in the sense Bergil meant and in a sense far more important to Sal. The sword that had been a gift from the king was gone, and like the king's favour, Sal could never get it back. As Sal was led to the houses of healing, he thought of the events that had brought him to this point.  
  
***  
  
Two figures rode along the rode from Ithilien to Minas Tirith. The older of the two was King Elessar, and the other his personal guard, Salafir. Anyone who saw them would have been very surprised, but not because of who they were. It was well known that the king was returning from a visit to Ithilien, and Salafir was rarely away from his side in public. The surprising thing was that they were arguing.  
  
"You can't blame me for us being late," Salafir was saying, "I was perfectly happy to keep travelling. It was you who insisted we wait out the rainstorm."  
  
"I saw no reason to endure the storm when we had shelter and food."  
  
"Obviously sleeping in a soft bed for so long has weakened you."  
  
"I fear, Sal, that you have overstepped your mark."  
  
"I thought the great King Elessar could not fear." Sal wondered if perhaps he had gone too far, but Elessar laughed. He was enjoying this as much as Sal. It was not often that they had the chance to be friends. If Sal acted this way in Minas Tirith he would be arrested instantly for such disrespect. When the reached Minas Tirith tomorrow, they would go back to being master and servant, restrained by duty and what was expected.  
  
That was one of the reasons Elessar had chosen to make this journey with only Sal as his companion: because he wanted to enjoy the freedom this gave him. The other reason was that Ralisay had insisted it wasn't safe for the king to travel without his guards. Ralisay was one of the king's advisors, and seemed to be under the impression that he could never be wrong. When he was right his advice was invaluable, however that didn't make him any easier to put up with. Elessar was trying to cure him of his egocentric ways by showing that sometimes other ways worked just as well. So far it hadn't worked.  
  
The two friends argued cheerfully. Arguing was something Elessar found never happened normally, everyone was too afraid of what he might do. It was something a person never missed until it was gone.  
  
At last, as it was growing late, they stopped and prepared to set up camp on the edge of a wood where there was a good stream. Neither was particularly on guard, as they were safe within the realm of Gondor. This lands were well patrolled by the Rangers, and it was rare that there were attacks or thieving. Besides, those that were thieving were hardly likely to attack two strong, armed men.  
  
They had barely dismounted when the attack began. Arrows flew from the trees, aimed more at the king than Sal. Sal drew fortune quickly, as men quickly followed the arrows from the trees. There were a lot of them, Sal couldn't easily count how many, all armed. Two charged at him together. Sal blocked a thrust from one, ducking the other's blow. He shoved his left elbow hard into one man's stomach, bringing fortune round to take the other's head off.  
  
He glanced across at Elessar, to see him struggling to fight four men at once. Sal ran at once to his aid, striking one from behind. But there were far too many men. As Sal was trying to defend himself from several at once, he heard Elessar cry out in pain.  
  
He spun to see what was happening, and that moment of distraction was all it took. Someone grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his side so he couldn't use fortune. Instead, Sal kicked the man on the shin. He heard a satisfactory yelp, and twisted in the man's arms, causing him to relax his grip. Sal broke free and swung fortune round, where it made contact with another man's sword. The sword flicked round with a twist Sal wasn't expecting, causing fortune to fly out of his hand.  
  
This time when he was grabbed from behind, another came in front of him and shoved a damp cloth over his mouth and nose. A sickly, sweet smell filled his nostrils, and he tried not to inhale. But he couldn't help breathing in the vapours. Slowly, his limbs became heavy, and he struggled less against his attackers. With each breath it became harder to keep his eyes open. As he slumped forwards in a drugged sleep, the last thing he saw was the king lying still on the ground, blood staining the grass around him.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: I've started on the cliffhangers and it's only chapter one. This does not bode well for the rest of the story. Please review. You can say negative things if you like, as long as they're constructive enough to help me improve my writing style. But don't think that means you can't say nice things if you like. I'm always happy to be told people like my stories. 


	2. Bergil

Author's note: Sal and Bergil are in their early twenties. And just so that you don't get confused, this chapter takes place before the beginning of chapter 1, and so will most of the others until the end.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, please keep them coming in.  
  
***  
  
Sal awoke when he heard people moving around him. He leapt to his feet instinctively, his hand feeling for the hilt of fortune at his side. He calmed only slightly when he saw the uniform of the tower guard. The soldiers stood around him, most with swords drawn.  
  
Sal looked around and saw that he wasn't in the place they had stopped for the night. He also couldn't see Elessar. They were on grasslands, with a few trees nearby. Sal could see no sign of the wood they had made their camp by. His horse was tied to an oak tree, but Elessar's horse was nowhere near.  
  
"Where is the king?" Sal demanded of the soldiers, who were watching him with caution. But it was not the soldiers who answered.  
  
"I would have asked you the same question," a voice came from behind him. Sal turned and saw Ralisay standing there, a strange look of enmity on his face. "You were the one who was supposed to protect him."  
  
"We were attacked," Sal explained.  
  
"That I do not doubt. And I wonder, why would the king be taken, and his bodyguard walk free, with not so much as a bruise to show he has fought. Rather suspicious, do you not think?" Sal struggled to comprehend this, his mind feeling rather foggy from the drug.  
  
"They drugged me," he said.  
  
"Perhaps." Sal didn't understand why Ralisay didn't believe him. He had proved he served the king, he had received the broach of the tree as a symbol of this. Why would Ralisay doubt him?  
  
Ralisay answered his question by flinging a leather bag on the ground before Sal. It clinked as it landed, letting Sal guess what it contained.  
  
"A large amount of money," Ralisay said, "Large enough to tempt the king's bodyguard into betraying him?"  
  
"I would never betray Elessar," Sal said simply. He hoped his years of service would be proof enough of that, but his claim fell on deaf ears.  
  
"When you didn't return to Minas Tirith when we expected, we sent out search parties. They found the king's horse, and his blood, but there was no sign of you. Now we find you, a good distance from the attack, with a bag of gold in your gear and without injury. What other explanation can you give for this?" Sal didn't reply, because he couldn't think of any reason why the attackers would have done this.  
  
"Take his sword and bind him!" Ralisay ordered. Sal didn't struggle. He wouldn't be able to get away without hurting men of Gondor, and he wouldn't do that. If the only way he could escape being accused a traitor was to become one, he would face the charge and he would dispute it. Those he had served with would believe him.  
  
For the moment, Sal's worries were more on what had become of the king.  
  
***  
  
Sal wondered why he seemed to find his way back to these cells so often when he never intended to do anything against Gondor. The soldiers who had brought him here seemed to believe as Ralisay did. So far, he had seen only one who had protested his capture.  
  
When he had been brought in, Bergil, who now served as his father had done in the tower guard, had seen him. He had demanded to know what was going on. Sal smiled at the ceiling of the cell, remembering his friend saying how impossible it was for Sal to be a traitor. Sal had been led away, but still he had heard Bergil.  
  
He sat up suddenly as the door opened. It was late, and there wasn't any reason for someone to come here. The only explanation was that they had some news of the king. Sal hoped desperately that he was safe, and already here in the city. He could still see his still form, the blood on the grass.  
  
He looked at the door, only to see Bergil open it.  
  
"You shouldn't be here," Sal said quickly, shocked to see his friend.  
  
"Neither should you." Bergil crossed to him, leaving to door open, and took out a small key. He proceeded to unlock the chains that held Sal's wrists and ankles.  
  
"I'm accused with treason, Bergil," Sal said, "if you free me you risk being charged yourself."  
  
"I couldn't leave you here," Bergil replied, but didn't meet Sal's eyes.  
  
Sal was touched that Bergil would do this for him. It lifted his heart to know that their friendship meant so much to Bergil he would risk his life for him. That feeling was like the sun breaking through the clouds. The fear Sal had felt, for himself as well as for Elessar, was suddenly gone. He stood quickly and the two friends left the cell. The guards were sleeping, slumped against the wall.  
  
"I drugged them," Bergil said, following his gaze. It was surprising that the same trick which had been used so recently against Sal could be used now to his advantage. He wondered where Bergil had got the drug, but decided it was better he did not know.  
  
Bergil had brought dark cloaks, which they wrapped around them as they hurried to the stables, just two more shadows on a moonless night. They reached the stables quickly, and were greeted quietly by one of the grooms, who was waiting with Sal's horse and another already saddled and ready.  
  
"Thank you," Sal said.  
  
"I know you, sir," the groom said, "and I trust in what I know, not what rumour says. If anyone can bring the king back, it's you."  
  
"Thank you," Sal said again, smiling at the confidence this man had in him. He was beginning to feel as confident himself. As he mounted his horse, the groom held something out to him. Even though he couldn't see it clearly in the dark, Sal knew what it was, by some other instinct. Fortune!  
  
He took back his sword, and strapped it to his side, and then they were off, riding through the city. They passed through each of the gates unchecked. Whether Bergil had drugged the guards, or they trusted him, Sal didn't know. They passed through the outer gates, and Sal looked up at the stars shining amid the blackness above them. There was something comforting about the stars, knowing that the problems of those beneath them were only fleeting and would soon pass away. Elessar had once said that Sal must have elf-blood in him.  
  
Thinking of Elessar brought back the image of him on the grass, and the urgency of the situation. The rode out until they were out of sight of the city, where they paused to discuss what would come next.  
  
"We should head north," Bergil said, "away from Gondor into the lands beyond the mountains."  
  
"No," Sal said firmly, "we must go back to where the attack took place. I must find the king."  
  
"But why, if you." Bergil broke off. It took Sal a moment to work out what he had been going to say.  
  
"You think I betrayed him?" Sal was so shocked his mind went blank. It was bad enough that Ralisay would think that of him, that his best friend did too was unbearable. He thought Bergil had helped him because he believed in him, and now he learned he didn't. It was as though a cold hand had gripped his heart and threatened to tear it out.  
  
"Do you see this?" he demanded angrily, touching the broach that was still pinned to his front. "Elessar gave me this because I save his life, and you think I would betray him now?" He looked away in disgust that his friend thought so little of him.  
  
"I'm sorry," Bergil said, but it was too late. Sal had never imagined Bergil could doubt him. He had heard him protesting his innocence!  
  
"You must see how the evidence is against you," Bergil continued. Sal understood now why things had happened as they had. The attackers had left him with the gold so that everyone would turn against him, even his friends. Sal keep his face away from Bergil, not wanting to let him see the tears filling his eyes that such a simple trick could work.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sal," Bergil repeated, "I'm sorry." There was a silence. "Should we go south then?"  
  
"Go back to Minas Tirith!" Sal snapped angrily, "I can manage fine on my own! Why do I want you with me if you think so little of me?"  
  
He turned and rode away, angry and upset. He urged his horse on, wanting to rid himself of some of this emotion. Remembering what he had been taught, he focused on the task, putting aside his emotions for the moment. It was then he noticed the sound of hooves on the road behind him, gradually getting further behind. He slowed, and allowed Bergil to catch up with him. He might be angry with his friend, but he cared enough to be able to forgive him, though it would take a long time for him to forget this.  
  
***  
  
The sun was rising when the reached the edge of the wood where they had camped. The golden glow just served to accentuate the patch of dark red that still stained the grass. Sal blinked back tears, promising himself that he would find Elessar somehow.  
  
He dismounted and walked to the patch of blood. The ground around here was stamped down by many feet. What traces there might have been to discover had probably been trampled by the soldiers of Gondor as they searched.  
  
"There's nothing here to help us," Bergil said. Sal wanted to yell at him for giving in so soon, but managed to keep his temper.  
  
"You forget," he said, "that I was trained by a Ranger." He walked slowly around, looking closely at the ground. He wished he had half Elessar's skill, as he struggled to distinguish the marks made by animals and those made by people. He found what he thought was the path they had taken, but they had been careful to hide their tracks.  
  
"This way," he said, and went back to his horse.  
  
"Are you sure this is wise?" Bergil asked. Sal was surprised that he was so worried, he was a trained soldier after all.  
  
"It's what I must do," Sal replied, "you don't have to come." He began to ride, glancing behind him once to see that Bergil was following. He was glad that Bergil trusted him enough to accompany him now. Together, the two friends set off in pursuit of those who had taken the king. 


	3. A Fly Upon the Web

Author's note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. And thanks also for the declaration of love. I'll never complain about getting those. So, on with the show.  
  
***  
  
The trail was hard to follow, the attackers were obviously skilled at concealing their passing. Twice Bergil suggested giving up, and Sal began to wonder why he was so reluctant to come. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he was afraid.  
  
Sal dismounted in order to look better at the trail, handing his reins to Bergil. He crouched down, only to stand up quickly as he heard a sound behind him. He turned, to discover that it was only Bergil dismounting. Sal didn't bother to wonder why, instead he turned his attention to the ground. There were marks, as though something had been dragged. Or perhaps someone. Sal shuddered to think of Elessar being dragged around, prisoner for some unknown reason.  
  
He heard footsteps again, and looked behind to see Bergil coming closer. He turned back, to see that someone had come up in front of him while he had been distracted. He reached for fortune, but not fast enough, as again the cloth with its sweet drug was pressed over his mouth and nose. He looked towards Bergil, silently pleading for help, but Bergil stood there, unmoving.  
  
***  
  
Sal was lying on his front when he woke. He pushed himself into a sitting position with difficulty because his hands were tied behind him. There were tight cords around his ankles and legs as well. He was in a cell, but one very different to the cells in Minas Tirith. It looked like a natural cave, which someone merely found useful and added to. There was a door of heavy wood with a large lock. More than anything, it reminded him of the orc tunnels that had been built in the ruins of Sauron's realm in Mordor. To think that anything made by men could be as terrible as that place.  
  
Was this where Elessar had been brought? Sal guessed it was, since he had been drugged with the same substance as in the original attack. At least if he was drugged there was a chance Elessar was alive. What worried Sal most was the way Bergil had acted during the attack.  
  
Had he been frozen by fear? Sal was no stranger to the effects of fear, but he would have thought Bergil would have done something. The expression on his face hadn't looked like fear, but perhaps the drug had been affecting Sal's mind. He was probably mistaken.  
  
His hands and feet had begun to go numb from the cords tied round them before the door was opened. The man who entered was tall and dark, his looks that of a man of Gondor, but his clothes were torn and dirty. There was also something familiar about him. Sal had seen him before, but couldn't quite place where.  
  
He walked over to Sal and punched him for no apparent reason. Sal's head snapped back, but he didn't cry out.  
  
"I've been wanting to do that for so long," he said. Again the voice was familiar, and again Sal couldn't think where from.  
  
He didn't have time to think about it. Two more men followed the first in. They grabbed Sal roughly by the shoulders and hauled him up, dragging him out the door with his feet trailing. It would have saved them a lot of trouble if they had just cut the cords round his feet. Either they were very worried about what he could do to them, or they just wanted to treat him in as undignified a manner as possible. Then again, it could be both.  
  
When they reached their destination, the men released their grip and Sal, unable to stop himself, fell face-first onto the ground. Someone laughed. Sal looked up at a familiar figure.  
  
"Rather a change of situation, wouldn't you say, Salafir?" The man looking down at him laughed again. Suddenly the memories snapped into place and he knew who these people were.  
  
"This time you'll get justice, Vaylith," Sal said, though it didn't seem much like it. He didn't let himself feel afraid though. He tried to push himself into a more comfortable position, but a foot planted itself in his back pushing him down again.  
  
He heard a sound. A cry of protest quickly stifled, and managed to turn his head to look. Bergil was standing in a corner of the room, a man pressing restraining hands on his shoulder. Bergil wasn't bound, and he wasn't trying to escape. As he looked at Sal, Sal thought he saw something in his eyes. An apology?  
  
"You're a fool, Salafir," Vaylith continued. "For three years I have been planning my revenge, and I'm not going to let justice stop me."  
  
"If you wanted revenge then why didn't you kill me?" Sal asked.  
  
"And have you die a martyr with your king? No, far better for you to be killed by your own people. A traitor."  
  
"But that won't happen now."  
  
"No, but this fool," he jerked his head towards Bergil, "has provided me the means for a greater revenge." Sal's first thought was that Vaylith was planning on hurting Bergil to get to him, but the man continued. "Your king is filled with the hope that you will come rescue him."  
  
"You want to show him there's no hope?" Sal asked.  
  
"More than that," Vaylith laughed again. Sal was getting sick of the sound. "You will tell him you betrayed him."  
  
"Never!"  
  
"I can inflict a thousand pains on you, and on him." He let that sink in. Sal thought of Elessar, and couldn't bear to imagine him in pain. He knew what Vaylith was like, and didn't doubt he was capable of everything he threatened.  
  
"If I tell him, you will let him go?"  
  
"No, but I will make sure his death is painless."  
  
"No!" Sal was surprised by the protest, and thought Vaylith was as well. Both turned to look at Bergil. "That wasn't part of the arrangement!" Sal wondered what arrangement he could be talking about. It took him a few seconds to realise it, and once he did he searched his mind desperately for another explanation. It fit, and would explain the way Bergil had acted, but still Sal didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't believe his friend was a traitor.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: The muses made me do it. Please don't hurt me.  
  
I promise, explanations will be coming, if not in the next chapter then in the one after, or the one after, or the . . . well, there'll be an explanation at some point. Try not to kill me until then. 


	4. Bergil's Confession

Author's note: I'm very upset about the lack of reviews for chapter three. If this happens again I may decide to sulk and not write any more.  
  
***  
  
"Our deal was over once you received your payment," Vaylith said, "what I do with my prisoners is my own concern."  
  
"No!" Bergil yelled again, moving suddenly. He snapped out of the hands holding him and charged at Vaylith. Sal saw the man come behind him, and yelled a warning. . . too late. The man grabbed Bergil, and Sal watched as he fell heavily to the ground, head crashing against the bare rock. Sal winced in sympathy.  
  
Bergil was his friend, and until he had proof of his treachery, Sal would continue to think of him as such. His friend lay limp on the floor, unconscious. Sal struggled, but was helpless to resist as Bergil was bound and hauled out, a deep gash on his forehead.  
  
Sal himself was pulled up into a kneeling position, and Vaylith bent down so his face was close to Sal's.  
  
"Think about what I have said. If you do not tell the king you betrayed him, you will be responsible for all the pain he will feel. And you will be forced to watch every moment of it." Then Sal was hauled out after Bergil.  
  
***  
  
Sal was worried that the blow to Bergil's head might have done more damage than just the cut. He had been still for a long time, lying where he had been dumped on the cell's floor. Sal thought he was still breathing, but the cell was only dimly lit.  
  
Sal sat and thought. His thoughts kept drifting back to Elessar, and the sight of him bleeding on the grass. Sal had feared he was dead then, and it was the most terrible thing he could ever have felt. A world without Elessar, his kind words and his friendly smile, was something Sal didn't want to think about. But it seemed that death would be the only option, and if Sal could ensure Elessar didn't suffer then wouldn't it be worth?  
  
Sal couldn't help but wonder about the possibility of rescue. The rangers might find out where they were, and then surely it would be better for the king to live as long as possible. He might suffer, but that was better than death, wasn't it? But if Sal refused to do as Vaylith asked, and then no rescue came, Elessar would suffer dreadfully. Sal couldn't allow that.  
  
Bergil stirred, and Sal emerged from his thoughts.  
  
"Bergil?" he asked.  
  
"Sal?" came the faint reply. Sal sighed. He gave his friend a moment to come fully to his senses before he began questioning him. But he needed to know the answers to the questions that were plaguing him.  
  
"What did you mean about an arrangement?" Sal asked.  
  
Bergil looked away. "I'm sorry, Sal."  
  
"What did you mean?"  
  
"He. . ." Bergil broke off. "I never meant for this to happen." He was refusing to look Sal in the eye, and Sal thought he was genuinely ashamed. "They told me. . . they told me that there was a traitor in Minas Tirith. Someone very close to the king. They said that they knew who the traitor was, but that the king wouldn't believe them if they told him. They said they wanted to show him who the traitor was, in a way that he couldn't deny. They paid me to give them some information. I thought that I was helping the king."  
  
"You trusted them?" Sal couldn't image Bergil could be such a fool.  
  
"They came me reasons to trust them. They way they spoke, the things they said, I really believed they were being truthful."  
  
"So you became a traitor trying to stop one?" It seemed rather ironic.  
  
"Traitor," Bergil muttered. Sal didn't think he had considered that before. There was silence for a while. The things Bergil had said were shocking, but at least Sal could trust that Bergil had only good intentions at heart, even if he did behave very stupidly. Sal knew him well enough to believe him.  
  
"Why did you think I was a traitor?" Sal asked.  
  
"Because of what they'd said. They said it was someone the king would never doubt. You fit that description. And when I heard what Ralisay said about you, I believed that you were they one they had warned me about. I'm sorry I doubted you." Sal heard a sob, and realised Bergil was crying. Sal wanted to go and put his arms round his friend. He could only imagine what Bergil was going through, the guilt he must be feeling.  
  
How long they sat there, Sal didn't know. Eventually, Bergil's tears ran dry, but the silence that followed was as bad as the sobs had been.  
  
"Who are they really?" Bergil asked once he had recovered enough.  
  
"A few years ago, a group of thieves were going through villages. They weren't just stealing, they were destroying things pointlessly. Houses, crops, supplies. Elessar, myself, and the rangers went after them. We managed to capture most of the group, including their leader. They were put to death in Minas Tirith, but there were a few of the group who escaped. Vaylith was one who escaped. His brother, was the leader of the group."  
  
"He wants to hurt you for his brother's death?"  
  
"Yes." Again there was a silence.  
  
"I'm sorry," Bergil said.  
  
***  
  
When the door opened again, they cut the cords around Sal's legs and he was taken out. He considered fighting, but there was no way he could win with his arms tied. He was taken back to the room he had been taken to before.  
  
"Have you decided?" Vaylith asked. Sal didn't answer. In truth, he still didn't know which option was the better one. "I see we shall have to persuade you." There was a cruel smile on his face, as he gestured to a man, who shoved a gag in Sal's mouth. He made sure he was unable to make even the slightest sound.  
  
When everything was secure, Vaylith led the way to another room. A cell. Elessar was in the centre of the room, his hands in chains that hung from the ceiling. A blindfold covered his eyes so he couldn't see Sal. His shirt had been torn off, revealing a mess of blood and dirt on his side. The wound Sal had seen him receive must be infected under all that.  
  
"Who's there?" he demanded. Sal wanted to go to him, but strong hands held him tightly. He wished he could say something, let him know he wasn't alone, but the gag did its job. Sal was forced to watch as Vaylith went up to Elessar, and punched him in the stomach.  
  
Elessar moved as though to curl up, but his arms were suspended above him so all he did was yank on his wrists. Sal watched the expression of pain on his face, and then watched as Vaylith hit him again, as soon as he had recovered slightly from the first blow.  
  
Sal looked away, unable to bear the expression of pain on his king's face. He didn't look, but still he could hear the sound of flesh meeting flesh. Throughout, Elessar made no sound, and Sal's respect for his courage grew. But how long could he hold out? How long could even the great King Elessar bear this torment? Sal knew that Vaylith could keep this up for years if he decided to.  
  
He looked back at Elessar, his stomach being to turn purple from bruises, teeth gritted against the pain. Then Vaylith struck him on the wound itself, and the mouth opened in a cry of pain. Sal felt tears fill his eyes. He couldn't let this continue any more. He had been given the option to stop this, and he would.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: I was only joking earlier. I couldn't stop writing any more than I could stop breathing. I think it's called addiction.  
  
Anyway, I decided to be nice and explain some of what's going on. It might make up for my lack of niceness in what I'm doing to Aragorn. Please don't hate me. 


	5. Sal's Treachery

Author's note: Sorry it's not very long, but it's here. Please review.  
  
***  
  
"Have you made your decision?" Vaylith asked.  
  
Sal nodded. "I will tell him." The thief cut the cords round Sal's wrists. Sal would have done anything for a weapon, but fortune had been taken when he had been captured.  
  
"Remember," Vaylith said, "you must make him believe, or his pain will be all the worse." Sal nodded again. He wished there was any other way, but he couldn't allow the beatings to continue.  
  
Sal followed Vaylith to the cell, the armed guards at his back enough to pursuade him not to try and escape. Vaylith opened the cell door, and Sal entered. Elessar was hanging from the chains, the blindfold still around his eyes, his stomach bruised painfully. He forced himself to stand as he heard the door open. Sal stood in front of him, struggling to hold back the tears he knew he couldn't let fall.  
  
'Please forgive me,' he silently begged as he walked up to him and pulled the blindfold off roughly. He saw the look of shock on Elessar's face, and hoped he could keep his own feelings hidden.  
  
"Sal?" Elessar asked.  
  
"Surprise," Sal said, somehow managing to smile. Elessar looked between Sal and Vaylith, who stood by the door. He looked at Sal with disbelief, and Sal knew he had to do better.  
  
"Bet you never suspected did you?" Sal said with a grin. "Never suspected that poor Salafir might not be as loyal as you thought?"  
  
"No, Sal," Elessar shook his head.  
  
"What? You can't get it through your thick skull that not everyone thinks you're as wonderful as you'd like to think?" The look of sorrow on Elessar's face was worse than a thousand beatings to Sal. He began to wonder if it was really worth it, but he'd started now and there was no going back.  
  
"Why, Sal?"  
  
Sal had to struggle to think of reasons why he might betray Elessar, it wasn't as though it was something he had ever considered before. "Because I'm sick of you," he said, "I'm sick of the way you always bossed me around. You may be the king, but that doesn't mean you're always right."  
  
"Sal. . . "  
  
"I haven't finished! For once in your life let someone else do the talking!" Sal glared at him, imagining he was glaring at Vaylith. "You were always laughing at me! Teasing me! Making jokes at my expense when you knew I couldn't respond!" In truth the teasing had gone both ways, but it was something he could pretend to take offence at. He continued, dredging up every imagined slight he could think of, every time Elessar had annoyed him, every time he had felt left out. By the time he had finished, Elessar was refusing to meet his eyes. Sal thought he could see tears there, and wished again that there were another way.  
  
He wanted more than anything else to throw his arms round Elessar and beg for forgiveness, but to do that would be as good as beating him himself. Tears filled his eyes and he turned away, knowing that if he stayed there much longer he wouldn't be able to keep them back.  
  
Suddenly there were noises outside. Metal struck metal. Everyone inside the room turned to the door, which was flung open by one of the band of thieves. He appeared afraid, as he went to Vaylith.  
  
"Soldiers of Gondor! They are already inside!" They could all hear the footsteps approaching.  
  
"Fool!" Vaylith shouted, "You've led them right to us!" He drew his sword, as did the others in the room. Sal wished he had fortune, so that he might be the one to give Vaylith his justice.  
  
As the soldiers of Gondor entered the room, Vaylith and the others fought against them. Sal glanced behind him at Elessar, but the king had passed out. Sal guessed the shock of his apparent betrayal had been too much for his already injured body.  
  
Sal didn't bother to watch the fight. He only hoped that a stray blow would end his misery. All he had done to Elessar was for nothing. Those tears that he had caused could have been avoided. 'Forgive me, Elessar,' he begged silently as he collapsed to his knees, his ears deaf to the cries of Vaylith and the others as he fell. He barely felt the hands that seized and bound him tightly. His heart burned with a pain far more acute. The pain of his own guilt.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: OK, now we're back to the beginning of the story, but I'm going to be evil and make you wait and see how it turns out. 


	6. Sal's Confession

Author's note: Short, and evil. We're back to the time of the first post now. And Valin, if you think that was an evil twist, wait and see what's in store.  
  
***  
  
Sal walked through the streets of Minas Tirith, the guards behind him and Ralisay in front. He knew that no punishment Elessar gave him could be worse than the one he was giving himself. They came to the houses of healing, and went in, passing through to the room Elessar lay in.  
  
Sal felt relief remove a burden he didn't know he'd been carrying as he saw the king. He was pale and bruised, but clearly going to live. He sat up in bed, waiting for him to come. He had been so stupid, he realised, to act the way he had. Elessar looked at him, and Sal met that grey gaze, but soon he tore his eyes away, ashamed at how he had hurt this man.  
  
Elessar looked passed him to Ralisay. "Leave us," he ordered.  
  
"Your Majesty, it is not safe to. . ."  
  
"Leave us!"  
  
"Yes, Your Majesty." Ralisay bowed and left, followed by the guards. Sal didn't know what to make of this. Did it mean Elessar trusted him? But there was still a look of doubt in his eyes.  
  
"Why?" Elessar asked.  
  
Sal told him. He began with the attack and told Elessar everything. He left nothing out, even telling him about what Bergil had done. Throughout, Elessar looked at him critically, giving no sign of his emotions.  
  
"I never betrayed you," Sal said as he finished. There was a silence, Elessar staring into his eyes again. Sal had the uneasy feeling that even his soul was being searched by that gaze.  
  
"I never betrayed you," he repeated, waiting fearfully for the king's reply.  
  
***  
  
Author's note: I couldn't resist. Sorry. You'll just have to wait until the next part to find out if Elessar believes him. I'll try and write in quickly. 


	7. The Exiles

Author's note: OK, I couldn't leave you in the lurch with that last chapter, so here's the conclusion to the story.  
  
The italics are flashbacks.  
  
***  
  
Elessar stood by the gates of Minas Tirith, his queen Arwen at his side. Her stomach was noticeably swelling with her first child. They stood together as they watched two people prepare to leave the white city for the last time. Ralisay had protested that they should be executed, but Elessar never killed without need. Bergil and Sal were to be exiled.  
  
Bergil was forbidden to return to Gondor for five years, and was never to be allowed back into the city. Sal was merely forbidden from the city. Ralisay had called this too lenient, but Elessar wouldn't change his mind.  
  
He saw Sal hesitate at the gates, pulling his cloak tighter around him, despite the heat of the day. Elessar guessed at what was hidden under there.  
  
***  
  
Elessar held out fortune to Sal. The guards had found it in the thieves' lair and recognised it for what it was.  
  
"I can't take it," Sal said.  
  
"Fortune was your gift," Elessar replied.  
  
"But. . ." Sal began and then broke off. Tears ran down his cheeks as he reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword.  
  
***  
  
Sal turned back and for a moment their eyes met. Sal raised his hand in a gesture of farewell, his cloak moving enough to reveal the broach shaped like a silver tree which was still pinned to his chest. Elessar gave him a small smile, and watched him turn away. His future was uncertain now, but at least he had fortune on his side.  
  
"Farewell, my friend," Elessar murmured at his retreating back. "Farewell."  
  
***  
  
THE END  
  
Author's note: I know what you're thinking. How could Elessar not believe Sal? Why did he give fortune back if he didn't believe him? And why haven't I got round to mentioning Arwen in any previous chapters since she's Elessar's wife?  
  
All these questions and more will be answered as soon as I can be bothered to write the sequel. Please review. Reviews make sequels come faster. 


End file.
